The Stalwart Father

Nuha’s doctor’s appointments are always a source of excitement. As anxious first-time parents we always want to know how much weight our child has gained, and whether she is over or underweight for her age group. Of particular interest to me is how much taller she has gotten, and what percentile she fits into as compared to her peer group. If she is to have a successful career as a college basketball player at a top school (I’m thinking Lady Vols at Tennessee, or the Tar Heels at UNC, although nothing would be more satisfying than to see her set records at my alma mater, UVA), she’s going to need some height.

But the most eventful part of the doctor’s appointment is always the point when she has to be administered her shots. This week, she was supposed to get multiple shots, for everything from the flu to the diptheria, tetanus, and pertussis vaccines. Saeeda and I spent time prepping her – playing with her to soothe her nerves, giving her some milk to settle her, and generally holding her to encourage her to relax. When the nurse showed up with the ridiculously long needles all ready, I did what any stalwart, strong-willed father would do – I handed the baby to Saeeda and hid in a corner.

Luckily for me, the nurse was too far along her preparation process to wait for Saeeda and I to fight out which one of us would hold Nuha down while looking into her large, pleading eyes as the shots were administered. Saeeda was closer, and I was hiding behind one of the office cabinets, so it would have to be Saeeda.

The first shot into Nuha’s thigh wasn’t fun. That’s when Nuha went from “la la la, the world is a great place right now, I wonder when I’m up for my next feeding” to “WHOA, mother$%^&*# what the hell was THAT?!” The nurse didn’t waste any time, discarding the spent needle and picking up the next shot in one swift move. This next one went into Nuha’s other thigh. That’s when Nuha realized things were seriously wrong with her world, and that her mom was not doing anything about. Cue the trembling lower lip, rapid expansion of her eyes, and the flow of dishearteningly large tears.

Saeeda’s face crumbled as our daughter pleaded with her mother to make the pain stop. And just when we hoped things would get better, the nurse picked up the third needle and administered it back into the first leg. That’s when Nuha's cries turned to the whimpers of a wounded animal, and I sensed Saeeda was going to lose it. Time for action!

As the nurse left the room, I moved in from behind the cabinet and scooped Nuha into my arms. “It’s ok babe, daddy will take care of you,” I whispered. Nuha looked at me and I could clearlyt read the accusation in her eyes – “You're supposed to take care of me! Why did you let me suffer so much pain?” I had no answer for her, so I simply turned Nuha to face her mother. “I’m sorry, sweetie,” I said. “Mommy is bad, very bad. Daddy will take care of you though.”

I got a cold, murderous look from Saeeda, but I didn’t care. I was just being the stalwart father, always there for my baby daughter.